


Twelve Days of Fontfest

by AngeliaDark



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Clone Sans and Papyrus, Daddy Kink, Fontcest, Fontfest - Freeform, Gift Fic, M/M, Multi, One Big Happy Family, Post-Pacifist Route
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-13
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-09-07 19:51:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 13,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8814088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngeliaDark/pseuds/AngeliaDark
Summary: A gift fic for the wonderful spoopy-gaster on tumblr!   Twelve chapters of the Skeletons exploring life, love, and family together.





	1. One New Dad

 

**Twelve Days of Fontfest**

 

_**One New Dad** _

 

It was several months into life on the Surface, and Sans and Papyrus thought that they were done with big surprises.

It was enough of a surprise when the barrier broke.

It was enough of a surprise when the humans turned out to be more curious and eager to help than afraid.

It was enough of a surprise when Papyrus got his driver's license on the first try, took Sans out for dinner to celebrate, and ended the 'date' with a sweet kiss, all in the same day.

Figuring everyone else had enough 'surprises' to last a lifetime, Sans wanted to keep his new relationship to himself for now.

Papyrus was surprised that skipping a few chapters in the Dating Manual turned out great, and was happy to spend some time in the 'Steady Chapter'. The number-one thing was 'keeping it exciting'.

And that meant more surprises.

He would surprise Sans with fancy ketchup bottles, a new telescope mounted on the roof for stargazing, even scooping his smaller brother up for surprise impromptu lavishes of affections. Seeing his brother turn as blue as a blueberry after every surprise only made Papyrus love surprises more.

That wasn't to say Sans wasn't good at surprises. Papyrus would wake up to Sans making breakfast, a snazzy new jacket, tickets to see Mettaton (even though they could get in for free, it was the principle of the matter), and a new cooking and dishware set.

Surprises here and there truly made their new, albeit innocent, relationship bloom and brought them together.

Until one day there was a surprise neither anticipated or could believe.

It started with a call from the Monster Embassy, asking for them specifically. Sans and Papyrus drove over and were guided to a room where inside was—

Well, Papyrus didn't really know; Sans had fainted the moment he had seen the stranger standing nervously in waiting, but whoever it was seemed to fret just as much over the smaller Skeleton's condition. Papyrus ignored his own confusion and aided the newcomer in helping his brother come to for an explanation.

Fifteen minutes of fretting, a couple glasses of water, and a request for privacy for just the three of them, Papyrus learned that he had a dad.

He supposed he shouldn't be surprised; after all, all Monsters came from SOMEWHERE, right? And it made sense. The stranger WAS indeed a Skeleton, on closer look. Papyrus could see his bone structure, Sans's expressions, in this newcomer, warped slightly by something that smoothed out what should be angles by some unnatural means.

Papyrus wasn't sure what 'the Void' was, but Sans did, and neither older Skeleton seemed willing to discuss it. He figured it would be rude to push it, and was already fighting back the urge to question his 'father' for more information as it was.

This wasn't like making a new friend or greeting a passerby; this was someone whom he was made from, another family member, and one that he couldn't remember for the life of him. It was....different. And awkward, considering Sans knew him and filled in more questions that only provided confusing answers.

Even after agreeing that Dr. Gaster— _“Our father is a doctor?”_ —would reside with them and making sure the guest room was perfectly set up and comfortable, Papyrus would stand back and observe from afar, this new addition to the family. He observed silently the almost gliding gait the elder Skeleton walked with, the way he spoke with odd hand gestures, how purple eyelights would gleam and dim depending on his mood.

He saw more subtleties that linked him and his brother to the doctor; a low, soft rumble of laughter like Sans's, a bright, beaming smile when pleased like Papyrus; how he would hide his hands when speaking of something he shouldn't like Sans, straightening his back to make himself appear taller like Papyrus.

So many similarities, a familial pull from his soul to the doctor's, but still Papyrus could only see Gaster as a stranger, and couldn't for the life of him summon up the courage to be his usual hospitable exuberant self around him.

He didn't know if it was something he did or inadvertently said, but Gaster caught onto his tentative behavior and one morning asked Papyrus to sit with him as Sans slept in.

Papyrus sat awkwardly on the couch with his...father...for sometime before Gaster reached over and touched his shoulder. Papyrus felt a flutter in his soul at the gesture, warming his bones from the inside out.

“Papyrus...” Gaster spoke softly, his eyelights glowing warmly in an attempt to comfort the younger Skeleton. “I know...that there are many things you don't understand about this...” He gave Papyrus a weak smile. “...and I hardly know where to even begin explaining, let alone in a way that makes SENSE...but...” He paused, squeezing Papyrus's shoulder lightly. “...I want you to know that I have...cared for you deeply since the day you became a sunny little orange soul that brightened up my life. And...it will take some...time, adjusting to all of this and explaining about where I've been and why I was never there...but...I would like to hold onto the hope that it isn't too late to get to know you.”

Papyrus felt his soul warm, smiling at the sincerity of the doctor's....his father's words. He reached up and touched the hand on his shoulder.

“I would like that...Father.”

 


	2. Two Rekindled Flames

 

**The Twelve Days of Fontfest**

 

_**Two Rekindled Flames** _

 

Sans leaned over the second-floor banister, smiling to himself as he watched Gaster and Papyrus bonding over Sudoku while they waited for him to join them. He felt happy that they were finally spending time with each other after days of awkward avoidance, unsure of what to really think of the other.

He thought it was endearing, how similar they were; not that it was surprising. Sans recalled how Gaster put a lot of care and love into Papyrus's creation, more than Sans could imagine.

It wasn't like Sans had been skived when it came to his creation, but really, it had been a first attempt. Cloning was still a relatively brand-new area of science and magic that hadn't been attempted before, but Monster species were dying out and a solution had to be found. Naturally, being the last remaining Skeleton alive, Dr. Gaster took it upon himself to do the preliminary trials with his own species to avoid giving another's false hope.

Sans's creation had been made with more physical matter than a normal Monster's, being made from bone from Gaster's own left hand as well as some dust matter consisting of another Skeleton that had long died. The dust was merely a catalyst to avoid a duplicate soul being born, because who knew what manner of problems THAT would cause?

Being the first attempt at a created Monster, Sans naturally ran into stabilization issues. His growth was stunted, his HP was too low, and he was having an existential crisis the moment he EXISTED.

But Gaster adored him anyway.

Sans was a new Monster, a new Skeleton that Gaster had devoted every spare moment of his life to. He declared Sans perfect and set to giving every opportunity and comfort he was able, watching with delight as Sans picked up the sciences like a sponge, developed an individual personality, and set out to prove himself as his own Monster.

It had been a delightful existence, living with Gaster, shooting ideas back and forth and having a grand time just being with one another. However, at some point, Gaster had gotten it into his mind that Sans was lonely and needed a counterpart, a match of sorts that would become a mate in the future. And so Gaster had set out to create a second clone.

Sans's success gave him confidence that making another would be fruitful, albeit with some tweaking. Instead of creating a Skeleton that would emerge as an adult, this one would be created to grow and develop as a normal Monster, something Sans himself had insisted upon. It had been disorientating to be fully-developed and having to learn everything from the ground up, even if it was learned quickly.

So Gaster pulled more matter from himself, using bone from his right hand, catalyst dust from another Skeleton, and some binding magic donated from Sans, who wanted this one to be as perfect as possible. Gaster could only be happy to accept, eager to create this new life for Sans.

Well, Gaster had been right. Sans WAS eager for a companion.

Only Gaster found out that HE was the desired companion.

It was a bit awkward for their first time to be in front of Papyrus's incubation tank and Gaster's primary thought being _'I hope this isn't his first memory'._

The idea of THEM was something that was warmed up to by the time Papyrus was ready and they took him out together, looking over the new baby bones with a soul glowing like warm gold and a smile shining twice as bright. Sans never stopped talking to little Papyrus, telling him stories and always letting him know that he was loved. Gaster always liked to hold Papyrus, investing in a sling to keep Papyrus close when working and quickly becoming attached to the closeness he had with his second creation.

It seemed to be an odd family of sorts for the three of them, a family that Sans had non-too-subtly hinted at wanting to expand. It took Gaster some time to warm up to the idea of procreating naturally, but eventually, after careful planning over how a new baby bones would be carried without bringing harm to either of them, he conceded.

…...only to find out that Sans was sterile.

It had been a major blow to his nonexistent stomach; Gaster had successfully created two new Monsters, but had completely overlooked the fact that since they were clones with only the tiniest portion of outside makeup, they would be sterile. It seemed too cruel, facing the reality that he and Sans were among the very last of their kind and unable to make sure they wouldn't be the end of their species, or that Papyrus was too young to know that he wouldn't be a father to a Monster he loved one day.

Gaster could say with honesty that he'd never cried over science no matter how painful or joyous the results may be, but he wept bitterly at his foolish lack of foresight, knowing that he'd had a hand in taking something precious away from Sans and Papyrus.

The revelation shook Sans's continuous existential crisis to the core, edging away from Gaster as a 'partner' and treating him more like a parent, cocooning himself back in a position between them that made sense to him. As much as it hurt, Gaster could give Sans that. He told Sans that, as unprecedented the consolation was, he was able to give Sans a family in the form of a baby brother, and would gladly fill his frame with more holes to create more Skeletons to broaden that family if Sans so chose.

But Sans refused. He couldn't bear the thought of Gaster continuously drilling himself into nothingness, if even for Sans. He had Gaster's love. He had Papyrus's love. And he told himself that he would be content with it.

Sans jerked out of his nostalgia when Papyrus loudly proclaimed that Sans should definitely be awake by now. Gaster said that he would fetch Sans, and quietly walked up the stairs, meeting the smaller Skeleton en route.

“Oh, you're awake,” Gaster said genially. “I hope we didn't wake you.”

Sans grinned shrugging. “Nah, I've slept through Papyrus's kitchen explosions during his experimental cooking days,” he replied. “It's cool.” He slipped his hands into his pockets rocking back on his heels for a moment. “...I'm...glad you're getting to know Papyrus,” he said. “...it's been quite awhile since you've been together.”

Gaster nodded to himself. “It has,” he said. “Not since he was small enough to carry in a sling. And now I can look him in the eye. It's......” He ran a hollowed hand over his skull. “...it's an adjustment, to say the least...”

Sans smiled softly, reaching out and taking Gaster's free hand. “Hey,” he said quietly, “don't sweat it. He already loves you. His mind just needs to play catch-up with his soul, is all.” He gave the hand in his own a squeeze. “Once he gets to know you like I do, he'll never wanna let you go.”

Gaster's cheekbones dusted a light purple, his hand tightening in Sans's. “...that's...quite a lot for him to get to know,” he replied. “After all, you know me much more intimately than most.” He paused, jaw twitching at the incidental pun he'd made, something Sans did not miss in the slightest.

“I should hope so,” Sans quipped. “I'd hate to know what kinda Void creatures know you as... _intimately_ as I do.”

“Oh goodness gracious, Sans...!”

“How about it, 'Dings, didja have any _intimate_ encounters?”

“Sans.”

“Make any close, _intimate_ friends?”

“Sans, for heaven's sake—“

“Or was it just me you turned _'into-a-mate'_?”

Gaster gave him a blank look before bursting into laughter, covering his face with his hand, which, with the hole considered, didn't do all that much. “Oh, for gods' sakes, Sans...!” he sputtered. “You haven't changed a bit!”

Sans grinned, squeezing Gaster's other hand tightly. “Buddy,” he replied, “you'd be surprised what hasn't changed about me.”

 


	3. Three Makes a Party

**The Twelve Days of Fontfest**

 

_**Three Makes a Party** _

 

It didn't take long at all for Gaster and Sans to pick up a romantic relationship again. It was bound to happen eventually; Sans was older than he once had been, in more ways than one, and craved for a partnership with someone he felt compatible with. The few relationships he'd had in the past never lasted very long, and never really evolved past anything but a close friendship.

But things were different when he was with Gaster. They were the same species, for one; for another, he was a literal part of Gaster, one that craved closeness to his origins while still having the individual mind of his own to want it in a way separate from mere closeness.

It was a closeness that Gaster felt as well, recalling back to that bittersweet romance he once had with Sans, wanting a future, a family, with the smaller Skeleton and having it pulled away. But he'd had many years to ponder over it, to rethink his old decisions, and came to find that he could still have a future with Sans, even if it wasn't the one they had imagined. Sans had a family; he'd adopted Papyrus long ago as his little brother and the two were inseparable.

VERY inseparable.

But Sans had a craving for more than the sweet, innocent romance his brother provided. It wasn't a slight against his brother, or against Gaster; it was simply filling two needs with two people.

The hard part was figuring out how to work with that.

Papyrus was innocent, not ignorant; Sans had The Talk with his little brother a good while ago at the appropriate age he thought to do so, and Papyrus had taken it with several grains of salt and went about his day as though Sans had informed him that Hotland was hot. It took Sans some time until Papyrus was almost into adulthood that he realized that Papyrus had never gone into heat, not once.

Then, when he'd had the realization, he could only feel a twinge of bitter sadness that Papyrus might one day feel the cruel reality; while Sans HAD gone through a couple of heats of his own, he was sterile. Papyrus never had any, possibly a side-effect of his own sterility, and with that possibly came a lack of sexual awakening anyway.

It took Sans a good while to get it through his mind that Papyrus truly wanted a relationship with Sans, and wasn't just doing it as per the social norm. Sans had to admit that he HAD given Papyrus all the love and support a Monster could hope for, and would be hard-pressed to find someone who gave him just as much. So soft and sweet was what defined their love.

….......but GODS, was it hard to not imagine bending his brother over the bed during his own heats.

…...and unfair.

As badly as Sans wanted to keep things fair in the household, 'fair' went out the window when his next heat hit, eternally cursing everything any anything that for the next two days he'd have no relief from this momentary hell that felt like it would drag on forever.

However, Gaster would never allow either of his creations to suffer long if he could help it.

It took little convincing to have Sans open the door and let him help, showing his eldest creation all the loving attention he once had, tending to Sans's every need, every discomfort until the smaller Skeleton was too incoherent from orgasmic bliss to even move.

Gaster held him close for the rest of the night, savoring the joy of having this precious part of him so close their souls were almost one. He wanted to savor it, honestly not knowing if Sans would allow something like this again.

* * *

He needn't have even worried.

Although Sans made it clear that he was in an established relationship with Papyrus, it was undeniable that Gaster was able to offer Sans something that Papyrus couldn't. Not that Gaster wanted to break up or come between what his creations had, far from it! But he didn't want Sans to be wanting for something that Papyrus couldn't—or wasn't ready to—provide.

Papyrus was not so obtuse to not notice when Sans wasn't satisfied with something, and noticed that Sans's heat was taken care of much more quickly than if he had been left alone to deal with it. Gaster found it rather odd, albeit somewhat relieving, when Papyrus hugged him and thanked him for taking care of Sans. While trying his best to be the greatest boyfriend ever, there were cues Papyrus wasn't very apt at picking up yet, and was loathe to cause his brother any discomfort or to be without.

Sitting everyone down on the couch with the almost formal announcement that Gaster should most definitely provide more in-depth care that Sans needed to be happy seemed a little over-the-top and unnecessarily uncomfortable, but Papyrus cinched it by asking Gaster,

“It's a father's job to make sure his children are well taken care of, right?”

Sans pulled his hoodie all the way over his head and drew the strings closed as Gaster's face turned almost completely purple from how such a perverted statement could be said with only the purest intentions possible, and both older Skeletons honestly couldn't tell if the touching statement had a larger effect on their hearts or their libidos.

For the sake of sanity, they went with hearts.

 


	4. Four to Score

**Twelve Days of Fontfest**

 

_**Four to Score** _

 

It was...trying, to say the least, working out some form of arrangement between the three of them to best make this odd relationship work.

Gaster found himself firmly wedged between 'father' and 'lover', depending on which son needed his attention. It was somewhat jarring, considering though he was the sire of both boys but only Papyrus referred to him as such.

At first, his youngest had referred to him as 'Doctor', and then tentatively graduated to 'Father', which was the honorific that stuck with as much platonic undertone as was possible despite Papyrus's unintentional double-ententes. Sans found them hilarious after the initial embarrassment, but they always threw Gaster for a loop, making him wonder if Papyrus was doing it intentionally.

He wouldn't be surprised. Papyrus, despite his innocence in the physical aspects of relationships, could be quite cunning and sometimes had a subtly devious mind that Gaster often thought might have been inherited from him. Any attempts to bring it up, however, had those closest to Papyrus scoff and laugh it off.

 _Best way to be a convincing fool,_ Gaster thought to himself, _is to convince those closest to you._

So he did what he was sure no one else thought to do.

He sat down and asked Papyrus about it point-blank.

Gaster wasn't entirely surprised at the pleasant laughter that came from his youngest; it was quite endearing to see Papyrus in such a state of mirth. Papyrus beamed, his cheekbones flushed a pleasant dusty orange.

“I'm surprised it's taken you that long to bring it up,” Papyrus chirped, sipping the coffee he had made for the both of them. “Most generally take me at face value.”

Gaster smiled softly. “Most will,” he remarked back. “But I got to know Sans for years before you came into our lives...and then I was gone for all of your life. I would just like to get to know you as intimately as I know Sans.”

Papyrus stared and smiled until Gaster got what he said and how he said it, running a hand over his face. “Well at least I know where you got it from,” he muttered, managing a smile when Papyrus laughed. He sighed, sipping his coffee. “But I am serious, Papyrus. I want to get to know you...and if you have any questions, I'll be more than happy to answer them myself.”

The younger's expression softened as he contemplated his cup quietly. “...it's strange, getting to know someone I SHOULD already know,” he admitted. “You and Sans already have so much history...so much in common...and I'm learning things about Sans I never knew! But...that's also raising a few questions about MYSELF, you know?”

Gaster nodded. “I know,” he said. “But, to bring you up to speed...you were created using bone from my right hand, dust from another Skeleton, and magic binding between myself and Sans. You incubated for several weeks before your own soul stabilized enough to take you out of the incubation tank.” He smiled at the memory. “You were so small and perfect...I could barely keep you out of Sans's arms. You were loved the moment you were conceptualized, Papyrus. I hope you know that.”

Papyrus blushed softly. “...I had always felt that way,” he replied. “Sans...well, he gave me everything anyone could hope for. More than I think I could ever hope to repay him with...” His smile faded slightly. “...it figures I can't even repay him fully with a proper relationship.”

Gaster put his cup down, frowning. “Whatever do you mean?” he asked. “Sans absolutely adores the air you breathe, Papyrus, and you provide him with every emotional comfort he could want!”

“Yes, EMOTIONAL,” Papyrus sighed. “...I know how a mateship works. But I just don't...GET it. I so often forget that Sans has a craving for things that I don't, and I get so frustrated with myself...” He swirled his half-empty coffee slowly. “...it's why I was...happy with the arrangement you have with him. You make him happy...he makes you happy...and that makes ME happy.”

Gaster's hands folded together tightly. “...you don't sound happy,” he replied. “Especially with yourself.” His eyelights lowered to his hands. “...and that was a lack of hindsight on my part. You see...when I created you and Sans...I did not take into account a lack of fertility. Sans...he's virile enough, but he's sterile. And you...just did not develop anything at all. For some species of Monsters, it's considered perfectly normal, but in your case, it was...my fault. And I'm sorry for that.”

Papyrus set his cup down, leaning over and hugging Gaster tightly. “...don't be sorry,” he said. “You didn't do anything wrong. You made a magnificent Sans and a great Papyrus. I think that's something to be proud of, if I'm not being so bold to say so.” He leaned his skull against Gaster's. “...after all, we did come from a marvelous Doctor Gaster.”

Gaster wiped at his damp eye sockets, reaching up to pet Papyrus's skull. “...You really are great,” he replied. “Thank you, Papyrus.”

Papyrus beamed, hugging Gaster tighter and nuzzling his skull to the doctor's happily before giving him a light kiss on the cheekbone. Gaster smiled, returning the gesture with one of his own, petting lightly over Papyrus's spine, pausing when he felt soft bone-rattling under his hand. He leaned back, seeing Papyrus's face flushed a lovely orange. “...do you like it when I do this?” he asked, running his hand over Papyrus's spine again.

The younger's bones rattled in response, answering that question for him. “It...DOES feel nice,” Papyrus conceded. “I...I mean, I don't really have urges to.....but I DO feel good when my bones are touched.”

Gaster smiled, trailing a phalange over the disks between Papyrus's vertebrae. “I see,” he said. “A lack of sexual desire doesn't affect your sensitivity to sexual acts.” He leaned his skull against Papyrus's, pulling the younger Skeleton closer. “...if you're open to the idea, Papyrus, I will be more than happy to show you how you can contribute to Sans's sexual encounters.”

Papyrus's frame shuddered again, curling his arms around the doctor tightly.

“...show me.”

 


	5. Five Golden Rules

**Twelve Days of Fontfest**

 

_**Five Golden Rules** _

 

It wasn't that Sans was mad, coming home and finding his two lovers occupying themselves with bone fondling, no. Far from it.

In fact, he was more upset that they were doing it on the couch rather than in the bedroom.

Rather, after Papyrus had nearly knocked Gaster out sitting up so fast and Gaster falling off the couch from the head-butting, Sans had assured them both that he wasn't mad about it, he was just a little put out at having been left out of this—apparently—deep conversation, so to speak.

Sans felt touched that Papyrus had gone along with it in a bid to educate himself on how to pleasure Sans, on days when some variety to their relationship would do them some good. Gaster's intentions, though sexual in nature, were pure, not wanting Papyrus to feel like Sans had to go somewhere else for something the smaller Skeleton wanted.

Touched as he was, he also found it concerning; he never brought it up to Papyrus because he didn't want to put pressure on his little brother into doing something he wasn't ready for. He was well aware that Papyrus, as deeply romantic the Monster was, never developed a sexual attraction to anyone, and that was FINE. He could live with that, he honestly could.

And it wasn't like he was using Gaster just for sex either; he truly appreciated the companionship the elder Skeleton provided, even if Gaster was a little emotionally stunted. Sans sometimes thought that maybe the bulk of Gaster's emotional output was spent in him and Papyrus, which he figured wouldn't be too far off the mark.

But even after his initial attraction to both considered, he couldn't help but feel a certain level of protectiveness over Papyrus. Not that he didn't trust Gaster; hell, the man genuinely adored them both. But he supposed HE wanted to be the one to show these things to Papyrus, to be privy to Papyrus's first shared orgasm.

After everyone was settled and made decent, Gaster had assured Sans that things had gone no further than touching, and Papyrus piped up that he wouldn't DREAM of being THAT intimate without Sans being there.

Between the three of them, it was decided that they should have boundaries and rules for the relationship, if it was so decided to pursue that far.

_They would be open and honest._

_No one would do anything they weren't comfortable doing._

_One-on-one time wouldn't be encroached on._

_If anyone wanted out, their choice would be respected._

_Keep it off the couch._ (Okay, that one was Sans's personal rule)

It covered all the bases and made everyone happy, so they went with it. Truthfully, Sans had most of them thought up for Papyrus's sake, not wanting his brother to feel overwhelmed with a physical relationship.

….he really needn't have worried.

 

 


	6. Six Kinks

**Twelve Days of Fontfest**

 

_**Six Kinks** _

 

It started with Gaster asking Papyrus 'what he was into', and then, Sans could've whacked the elder Skeleton over the back of the skull for that. His aim was knocked askew when Papyrus cheerfully replied,

“Same as Sans, I suppose I have a daddy kink.”

The tea Gaster had been drinking was spewed all over the coffee table while Sans could only wordlessly turn blue in the entire skull at the blasé response his brother gave. He sputtered for a moment before squeaking—he totally DIDN'T squeak!—“I do NOT have a...a 'daddy kink'...!”

Gaster actually snorted as he tidied up his spewed tea. “Now, Sans,” he replied, his voice wavering with mirth, betraying the genial tone, “I simply asked because I want to help accommodate Papyrus as best I can. We're all lovers here, there's no need for embarrassment in telling each other what we like, is there?”

Sans's blue hue darkened. “Say what you will, you closet pervert, but I don't have a daddy kink! You just HAPPEN to be my sire, and I just HAPPEN to like fucking you.”

“Language, Sans,” Papyrus huffed. Gaster smiled, petting Papyrus's skull.

“You should get used to it, Papyrus,” he consoled. “Sans very much enjoys his dirty talk in bed.” He shot Sans a dirty grin. “A little TOO much, methinks.”

Sans returned the grin with a fiery glower. “Oh, like YOU'RE one to talk! What th' hell kind of doctor actually likes PLAYING doctor in bed, huh? That HAS to border on narcissistic!”

“And your point?” Gaster's amusement was palpable by this point. “At least it means I'm good at what I do.”

“If by that, you mean _'I'm a boring dork who can't think up anything better to roleplay'_ , then yeah.”

Gaster's amusement dwindled down. “Boring, Sans? Really? You can come up with fifty-two flavors in place of the word 'sex', but 'boring' is your adjective? I'm hurt at your laziness.” His eyelights glinted mischievously. “But you'd HAVE to be lazy to enjoy somnophilia as much as you do.”

“WINGDINGS!” Sans yelped, his voice breaking as he pressed his hands to his burning blue face. “Oh my GOD, did you really HAVE to!?”

Gaster used his magic to summon the hot kettle from the stove. “Yes, I did,” he replied as he poured himself another cup of tea. “After all, we ARE talking about airing our sex-soiled linens, so to speak. I'm certainly not ashamed that I enjoy being a physician in bed.” He sipped his tea, smiling softly. “And in any case, somnophilia was your idea. The only bad part was that you slept through it.”

Sans made a strangled whining sound behind his hands, not looking up even when Papyrus, who had remained quiet through the apparent tête-à-tête between his brother and father, hugged him tightly.

“Sans, please don't be embarrassed,” Papyrus said. “I don't care what you're into. I want to be a part of it, no matter what it is.” He made a grimace of distaste. “...even if it is your dirty talk.” He gave Sans a smile. “...I mean, I admitted to having a daddy kink. So what right do I have to say anything?” He pressed his teeth to Sans's skull. “And if you want to somnophile my prostrate form, you may.”

Sans snickered, only because Gaster wasted yet another mouthful of tea; he was really very ancy about submitting his brother to THAT particular kink of his. “....yer sweet, Paps,” he sighed, hugging his brother back. “...but....eh....let's cross that bridge when we get to it, alright?”

“Alright,” Papyrus said, hugging Sans tighter before leaning back, happy all that was taken care of.

“.......Gaster likes having his dick sucked under his desk while he works.”

“SANS, OH MY GOD!”

“Fair's fair, 'Dings.”

“I should ground you for that!”

“Good luck, old man, I'm almost thirty!”

“That won't stop me from bending you over my knee and bruising your tailbone!”

“Ooh, and I thought we were done with the kinky talk now!”

“I wouldn't mind a bruised tailbone.”

The elder two Skeletons paused their bickering to stare at Papyrus, who was making his own cup of tea with orange-tinged cheekbones. “....just...putting that out there. I would not mind.....that.” A long, deliberate sip.

Gaster and Sans honestly didn't know whether to laugh in stride or cover Papyrus and protect him forever.

Both sounded good right about now.

 


	7. Seventh's Heaven

**Twelve Days of Fontfest**

 

_**Seventh Heaven** _

 

Papyrus was the one to bring up that he finally wanted to be a part of Sans and Gaster's sex life, and it couldn't have come at a more inopportune time. Sans was churning with the first stages of one of his heats and almost had to physically be held back by Gaster when Papyrus made the proclamation before he was able to collect himself.

“This..ah....isn't really the best time for that, bro,” Sans said, already feeling his bones crawl from the desire to pin his brother down and do unspeakable things to him; only his dedication to not rushing things for Papyrus (and Gaster's very subtle Blue hold on his soul) kept him from doing just that. “Maybe...maybe next week, yeah?”

Papyrus huffed, almost pouting. “Sans, next week you'll still be worn out from your heat!” he replied back. “Now be sensible! What better time than when you're in heat?”

Sans almost ASKED Gaster to put a full-force Blue hold on him. “Uh, LITERALLY any other time!” he almost wailed. “Paps, the last thing I want to do is accidentally hurt you or make you uncomfortable—“

“Well that's what Father is here for,” Papyrus retaliated sensibly. “I know he won't let anything bad happen.” He beamed at Gaster in a way that couldn't be considered innocent by any stretch of the imagination. “And in any case, my mind is made up. I will not sit back and let you suffer another heat without me. Although Father would no doubt make it satisfying for you, I still do not want to be left out.”

Sans groaned, burying his face in his hands as Gaster gave him a comforting back pat on the shoulder. Papyrus had that look of conviction that plainly displayed his refusal to back out of his decision, and both elder Skeletons knew it.

“If you insist, Papyrus,” Gaster said. “And you are correct. I will make sure no one is hurt and everyone enjoys themselves. In any case, the sooner we help Sans take care of it all, the sooner his heat goes away.” He gave Sans a kiss on the skull before picking the small Skeleton up like a child. “I will get him situated upstairs while you get yourself ready. Come upstairs in five minutes.”

“Yes, Father,” Papyrus replied as Gaster carried Sans upstairs to his own bedroom, settling the small Skeleton down.

“'Dings, really, I don't think this is best for Papyrus...!” Sans protested, his bones already flushed from the closeness he had with the doctor. “Especially for...you know...”

Gaster smiled, petting Sans's cheekbone lightly. “Sans, it'll be fine,” he said. “You know how willful Papyrus can get. He's determined to help you with your heat this time around...and what better way to know what it is you like than when you're begging him for it?”

“Wingdings, oh my GOD...!”

“Shush.” Gaster leaned in and kissed Sans's skull. “You're going to be taken care of this time, Sans. And we'll each make sure the others enjoy themselves too. Now stop fretting and just relax.”

Sans let out a rattle of air, relaxing back as he was told and staring up at the ceiling, trying to quell down the crawling in his bones as he mentally went through his determination to not lose control of himself. He was in heat, but this was HIS body, HIS magic, and he was in complete control.

Both elder Skeletons looked up when Papyrus walked in, and Sans nearly choked on his own fast-accumulating saliva when he saw that his little brother was wearing next to nothing, only a pair of daisy dukes that were barely two inches from being considered a denim bikini and a worn tank top that clung to his rib cage like skin.

Very quickly, Sans's mental file on self-control was being thrown around like a lab monkey on twelve shots of epinephrine. The gleam of his self-restraint snapping must have shown, because before he could even move, he felt himself being held back against the headboard by Blue magic courtesy of Gaster. He struggled fruitlessly against the hold, unable to break Gaster's superior grasp of that particular brand of magic, and could only watch as Gaster smiled and pulled Papyrus into his lap like a child, the image endearing, if not comically so, considering Papyrus's height.

“Your big brother is being naughty and ill-tempered in his heat,” Gaster purred to Papyrus, keeping an eyelight on Sans. “I think that a punishment is in order.” He ran his hands over Papyrus's rib cage, delighting in the beautiful flush that appeared over the smooth bones and the breathy intake of air the younger Skeleton gasped.

Sans growled, struggling against the Blue hold as he took in the sight of Papyrus squirming in Gaster's lap. “This isn't fuckin' fair...!” he hissed, his eyelight blazing blue in a bid to throw off Gaster's hold, to no avail. “C'mon, it isn't FAIR—“ He gagged on the wadded-up handkerchief that Gaster magicked between his teeth.

Gaster smirked, nuzzling Papyrus's neck bones. “You're only making your punishment worse, Sans,” he purred, sliding his hand up Papyrus's tank up, the other tracing a finger over Papyrus's shorts button. “Don't you WANT to feel better?” A purple tongue slithered from between his teeth, gliding over Papyrus's neck, making the younger Skeleton squeak and shudder.

“F...Father...” Papyrus stammered, trembling in Gaster's hold, “...you...shouldn't tease him so! It's so unfair and mean!”

“Perhaps,” Gaster conceded, deftly undoing Papyrus's shorts, “but nevertheless, he IS being naughty and must be punished. Now then...” He growled, nipping over Papyrus's bones. “Be a good boy and lie back for Daddy.”

Papyrus nearly went limp in Gaster's hold at the command and tone, lying back on the bed in front of Sans. Gaster gave Sans a smile as he peeled the shorts down Papyrus's legs and disposed of them over the side of the bed, tracing his fingertips up Papyrus's femurs before parting them.

He wasn't going to fully take Papyrus, let alone in front of Sans; he knew that his boys wanted Sans to be Papyrus's first and he wasn't so cruel as to take that away, especially right in front of Sans.

But that didn't mean he couldn't have a little fun and rile Sans up for one hellova first time for Papyrus.

“Skeletons are quite unique among Monsterkind,” he remarked, his tone conversational as he slid his hands to Papyrus's iliac crests. “We can create and accommodate for pretty much any mate we want. It's fueled by a personal desire, our partner's make, and...” He reached into Papyrus's pelvic cavity, curling his fingers under the pubis and tugging hard.

Papyrus arched off the bed, jaws parted in a silent scream as his soul flared, magic coalescing in his pelvis, forming a golden orange mound that gleamed in its newness.

“...it can be activated almost instantly,” Gaster concluded. “Isn't it lovely, Sans? If only you were behaving.” Gaster was SURE he felt a prickling of magic that would've summoned a Blaster if Sans had any less self-control. He leaned over and took one end of the kerchief, tugging it from Sans's mouth. “Can you behave, Sans?”

Sans growled, but remained silent, giving Gaster a jerky nod. Gaster smiled, turning to Papyrus. “What do you think, dear? Has Sans been punished enough?”

Papyrus shuddered, his whole frame shaking from having his magic formed and exposed so openly for the first time, not quite knowing what to make of it, but feeling that it needed to be utilized while it was out. And he wanted his brother to do it. “He....he's been a good boy, Daddy,” he whimpered, squirming around on the bed. “We both have...!”

Both elder Skeletons almost groaned in unison at the response, but manged to conduct themselves properly as Gaster slowly eased up the Blue hold on Sans's soul. “Easy now, Sans,” Gaster said, only half-teasing but fully serious. “You don't want to overwhelm your brother. You can get all the pleasure you want going slow.”

Sans crept over to Papyrus, forcing himself to move slowly to avoid rushing himself, crawling on all fours between Papyrus's femurs and feeling himself salivate again seeing Papyrus's conjured magic so close and just WAITING. His brother's scent was driving him crazy to the point where he couldn't help but duck his head down and take more than a taste to start with.

Papyrus wailed, bucking his hips up to Sans's mouth, any further cries being swallowed by Gaster when the elder Skeleton kissed him hard, twining their tongues together as Papyrus clung to Gaster's jacket for dear life. Even when Sans came up for air, he remained clutching the jacket, panting hard and squirming hard.

Sans growled loudly, shoving his shorts down and palming at his own congealing magic, willing it into a thick tendril-like appendage that had become his personal favorite, and one that past lovers never had any complaints about, hoping that Papyrus felt the same way.

“Yer so fuckin' perfect, Papy...” he growled, running his hands over every bone he could get his sights on. “Too fuckin' perfect.....I'm gonna make you feel so good, baby bro...” He held Papyrus's femurs apart, nudging the appendage against Papyrus before pushing inside.

Gaster leaned back, watching his boys cling to each other, the room thick with sweet-smelling pheromones that teased at the limits of his own self-control. When Papyrus was comfortable with physical intimacy, he'd join in. But for now, he was content with watching.

…...almost content.

 


	8. Eight-Ball

**Twelves Days of Fontfest**

 

_**Eight-Ball** _

 

Gaster enjoyed spending time with both of his boys, but he truly loved one-on-one time with them. He loved talking science and discussing theory with Sans, reminiscing about old times and making plans with his first wonderful creation.

With Papyrus, spending time with the youngest Skeleton was a hodgepodge of activity, ranging from cooking to shopping, to—Gaster's favorite—settling down with a bedtime story.

Gaster didn't exactly know whether Papyrus genuinely still needed a bedtime story to sleep or if it was a deeper aspect of this daddy kink Papyrus apparently had, but he still liked reading regardless. He checked his watch and saw that it was ten o-clock, Papyrus's bedtime on one of his few sleeping days.

Papyrus's sleeping schedule was an odd one; even as a baby bones, he had an abundance of magical energy that made sleep something that wasn't necessarily a necessity. As he grew and gained more control of his magic, his ability to go days without sleep didn't wane; it didn't need to. His magical reservoir was something that was almost never tapped to its fullest potential, and Gaster was loathe to discover what Papyrus going all-out in battle would be like if the situation called for it.

He wouldn't WANT to know. He wouldn't want his darling little boy in a situation like that if he could help it.

But reading his adult son bedtime stories to help lull him to sleep during the day when magic reservoirs ran low? That he could do.

Gaster walked upstairs, seeing that the bathroom light was off and took that to mean that Papyrus had already brushed his teeth and was in bed waiting. He walked into Papyrus's bedroom, seeing his dear child curled up in bed but still awake and waiting for him to come read.

“Ready for bed, Papyrus?” Gaster asked, walking over to the bookshelf to select tonight's reading material; usually Papyrus went for Peek-A-Boo With Fluffy Bunny or Complex Puzzles, but Gaster insisted on broader reading material and was more than happy to create a selection of adventure novels. The Choose Your Own Adventure books they got at the thrift store were a goldmine for reading material, and one book could last several bedtimes with the different choices to make.

He pulled a new one from the shelf that hadn't been used yet and pulled up a chair, pausing when he saw that Papyrus didn't seen as eager as usual to hear a story. Rather, the young Skeleton was looking despondent and shaky, almost like he was feeling ill. Gaster frowned, holding the book unopened in his hands as he surveyed his youngest critically. “Are you unwell, Papyrus?” he asked. “You seemed fine this morning.”

Papyrus made a soft whining sound as he curled up tighter. “...I...do not know,” he replied earnestly. “I just feel....uneasy.”

Gaster sighed, sitting back. “I AM quite worried about your irregular sleep cycles,” he said. “I'm beginning to wonder if it's beginning to affect you. Your magical output IS admirable, but perhaps a steady schedule of rest might help.” He smiled, opening the book. “For now, you really need sleep. We'll start with—“

“Ah....actually...” Papyrus stammered, shifting the blankets off as he sat up. “...could you.....help me with something else?” He pushed the blankets away and Gaster's senses are assaulted with a heavy sweet-citrusy smell that made his own magic quiver. That was...peculiar. And familiar.

Papyrus shifted where he sat before reaching down and pulling up his long night shirt, his face flushing orange. “...it.....started a few hours ago...” he said, “...and it's not going away...” He shifted again. “It's....it makes my magic feel.....odd....”

Gaster stared, his grip on the book going lax as he surveyed the almost dripping mound of magic nestled in Papyrus's pelvis, the scent almost overwhelming by this point.

_Papyrus is in heat._

Part of his mind instantly went into scientist-mode, wondering if this was a very late manifestation in Papyrus's make; the other part was howling like a dog beast to be let off its leash. Either mentality considered or not, both agreed that this was an occurrence to be taken and treasured.

It occurred to him that he should call Sans, but he realized that it would be fruitless; Sans was off with Alphys in a bid to fundraise for the Monster labs. Gaster would have gone too, but neither wanted to leave Papyrus alone, and Sans was much more of a people-person than Gaster was anyway.

But Papyrus was in need NOW, and he would NOT let his darling boy suffer his first heat without relief.

Gaster let the book drop from his hands before reaching to Papyrus and curling his arms around his youngest, kissing him softly. “Don't worry, Papyrus,” he purred, nuzzling Papyrus's skull. “Daddy's going to take care of you.” He kissed Papyrus again, leaning the younger Skeleton back on the bed before shrugging off his coat and letting it drop on the floor. “You're just a late bloomer is all, nothing to be worried about.”

Papyrus let out a pathetic _nyeh_ as Gaster leaned back to undress, his bones crawling with desire for contact. “It's.....so uncomfortable...” he complained. “Like an itch I can't scratch, but it feels GOOD, I...”

“Shhh,” Gaster broke in gently. “It's perfectly natural, Papyrus. It'll go away once it's...taken care of...” He dropped his shirt back on the floor with his jacket, nuzzling Papyrus's sternum as he undid his pants. “Just remember to let Daddy know what you want...I want to make you feel better. Can you do that for me, dearest?” He brushed his knuckles over Papyrus's flushed face, purring at the delightful mewl the younger let out.

Papyrus leaned into the caressing hand, nodding. “I can do that, Father...” he said. “...I...I want to...” He blushed hard as he parted his femurs bashfully, his hand unconsciously inching toward the gleaming mass of magic. Gaster watched the hand, knowing that self-servicing was helpful when one didn't have a partner for heats, but Papyrus didn't have to deal with that. He reached out and laced his fingers with Papyrus's.

“Tell me,” he commanded, squeezing the younger's hand. Papyrus whimpered, tugging Gaster closer.

“...I want you, Father...” he answered, his voice slightly husky in a way that sent a ripple down Gaster's spine. “Please.....please please please....” He parted his jaws and let his tongue slide out to curl around Gaster's, mewling when he felt Gaster slide between his legs. His magic flared almost violently, curling his arms around the older Skeleton tightly, his kiss growing rough and needy.

Gaster adjusted to Papyrus's increasingly-assertive demeanor, not wanting to tease Papyrus during this delicate first heat and deciding that further teasing and playing could wait. He pushed Papyrus's femurs apart and held them tightly as he formed his own magic into a tentacle-like tendril, pausing to slide his tongue back into his mouth and press his skull to Papyrus's.

“Tell me you want me, Papyrus,” he said, his voice barely more than a growl. “I need to hear it.”

Papyrus growled back, nodding. “I want it,” he replied firmly. “Please...I want you, Daddy.”

That was all the incentive Gaster needed.

It had taken some time to satisfy Papyrus, and Gaster was just thankful that his youngest's heat happened to coincide with a sleep night, and therefor didn't have much magic to expend for an extended amount of time.

Gaster held Papyrus for a good long awhile after his youngest all but passed out after his third orgasm, enjoying the afterglow of their souls pulsing softly in unison before he slid quietly out of bed, tucking Papyrus in with an extra pillow to cuddle in place of him as he stretched his legs.

The attribute of restlessness was a shared trait between them, and when Gaster wasn't tired, he couldn't stay still. He slid his coat back on for some modicum of modesty and silently busied himself with looking at Papyrus's things. He didn't really have much of an opportunity to glance about Papyrus's personal space, but it was as he expected it to be, considering his youngest: a grab-bag of personality.

True that Sans had a hobby or two aside from a passion for science, but Papyrus seemed to be perpetually in a bid to try everything, find everything, and reinvent himself in some way or the other. He sadly thought that it was perhaps remaining habits of when Papyrus was younger and trying hard to make friends.

He did find it endearing to see that Papyrus still enjoyed playing with toys, attributing that to his 'late bloomer' thought earlier, brushing his phalanges over the well-loved, but well cared for action figures, figurines, and odds and ends, smiling in amusement when he found a 'Magic' Eight-Ball among Papyrus's things.

Less of gullibility but more of wishful thinking, Gaster knew that Papyrus enjoyed something like this, as literally as his youngest took fortune cookies when Sans brought home takeout from the Chinese place downtown. He turned it in his hands, watching the little white icosahedral die bob about in the blue liquid for a moment before shaking it.

“Will Sans be disappointed he missed Papyrus's first heat?” he asked, feeling a bubble of mirth at the childish question. He watched as the die came to an answer.

_Signs point to yes_

He snorted softly, giving Papyrus a soft look as the younger mumbled in his sleep and hugged the pillow tighter. Gaster sighed, figuring he'd tidy up and get back to bed with Papyrus, allowing himself one more frivolous shake of the toy.

“Will this change anything?”

The die bobbed undecided for a moment before it settled and he went to bed.

_It is certain_

 


	9. Nine-One-One

**Twelve Days of Fontfest**

 

_**Nine-One-One** _

 

_A good hunk of this chapter was inspired by[ **THIS**](http://spoopy-gaster.tumblr.com/post/152842977102/gaster-then-proceeds-to-worry-over-how-this#notes) piece of art by spoopy-gaster on tumblr._

* * *

 

 

Well, yes, naturally Sans was a little miffed that he had missed Papyrus's first heat, but he didn't hold it against either of the other two. Dealing with heats was uncomfortable, and he didn't want to put his little brother through that at all.

It still took lots of cuddles and Papyrus promising up and down that since he was 'finally a full-fledged adult', that the next time he went into heat, Sans had first priority. It seemed to pacify the smaller Skeleton, and the matter was changed into a celebration of Papyrus finally coming into magical maturity.

A few days after the fact, Papyrus seemed a little lethargic, his usual abundance of energy being drained quicker than what he was used to. Sans told him not to worry and that it was pretty common to be worn out for at least a week after heats so their magic could get back in sync with their normal functions. But a week passed and Papyrus's lethargy remained, even to the point where the youngest Skeleton didn't want to bother changing clothes if he absolutely couldn't help it.

Papyrus knew his magic; he had a better control over it than even some of the more powerful Monsters of common knowledge. What he felt wasn't anywhere near 'normal' by any stretch of his imagination. Something was off with his magic; something was HAPPENING, and he didn't know what.

But he didn't want to worry his father or brother; apparently there were big things happening over at the labs and the last thing Papyrus wanted was to upset them over something that wasn't life-threatening.

And so he remained quiet, keeping on a brave, happy face for them and waited for it to blow over.

…..until it became impossible to keep quiet about it.

His lethargy was having odd side-effects of demanding more food while keeping his body too buzzed to sleep even if he wanted to, and it was two in the morning when Papyrus decided that he needed at LEAST two bowls of oatmeal and a package of cinnamon buns to satisfy his magic hunger. The idea of so much sugar was almost distasteful, and he instead reached into the fridge for some eggs when a twinge in his soul seemed to say _'no, not that!'_ and subtly go for the package of cinnamon buns.

Papyrus pondered over the oddity for a moment before realizing that the twinge he felt was a little LOWER than where he was used to his soul being. He backed away from the fridge, his hand shaking slightly as he lowered it to the front of his shirt, pressing in lightly and jerking his hand back when he felt a solidness that he had never before experienced in his life.

Miraculously keeping his panic under control, he hurried to the downstairs bathroom and closed the door, taking a moment to calm himself before gripping the bottom of his shirt and lifting it.

* * *

 

Gaster had a nagging feeling all day at work that he needed to be at home with his youngest son during this apparently trying time. He didn't know if having such a late heat was having detrimental effects on Papyrus's magic, and quite frankly, he wanted to take a good chunk of time off to properly study this phenomenon personally.

The only thing keeping him from doing so was his promise to Sans, many years ago, that he would treat him and Papyrus like actual Monsters instead of clones or science experiments. It was a promise he was loathe to break (outside of roleplaying, of course), and so unless Papyrus came to him with a problem, he kept his curiosity to himself.

Still...there was something OTHER than curiosity that was egging him to go and be with Papyrus, but he didn't know WHAT. It gnawed at his subconscious all day until he finally clocked out early to go home, just wanting to make sure things were alright before Sans got back. If he WAS going to have any curiosities, it wasn't going to be on Sans's watch, nosiree.

He stepped inside the house, setting his bag down and frowning when he saw Papyrus sleeping on the couch in his bedclothes, an oddity in and of itself. Papyrus HATED lazing about during daylight hours, let alone taking a nap during them. He quietly walked over and shook Papyrus's shoulder lightly. “Papyrus?”

Papyrus blinked awake, rubbing his eye sockets tiredly. “O...oh...Father...?” he mumbled as he sat up. “When did you get home?”

Gaster sat down next to him. “Just a moment ago,” he answered. “Are you alright, dear? Do you still feel ill?” He reached out and pressed a hand to Papyrus's skull to gauge a fever from magical overload, his hand dropping when Papyrus shook his head. His concern only heightened when Papyrus seemed to curl in on himself.

“...Father...” Papyrus began tentatively, “...remember last week, when you helped me with my heat?”

Gaster couldn't help but feel his cheekbones warm at the memory. “...yes,” he replied. “What of it, son?” He watched Papyrus squirm for a moment before letting out a sigh.

“...close your eyes,” Papyrus said.

Gaster didn't know where this was going, but he was loathe to deny Papyrus of anything while the young Skeleton seemed anxious about something. He obeyed, listening to Papyrus stand and heard clothing rustle slightly.

“...now open them.”

Gaster did so, not knowing what to expect.

….......and most certainly not THIS.

Papyrus stood in front of him, hands holding up the hem of his shirt to reveal an orange ectoplasmic torso that stretched from xyphoid to pelvis; that alone wasn't the shocker, considering Gaster and Sans themselves preferred ectoplasmic 'padding' to better protect bones and souls. No. No, it was INSIDE the ectoplasm that gave Gaster the absolute shock of his life.

Nestled snugly in the ectoplasm was a small soul.

A CHILD'S soul.

Papyrus shifted from foot to foot, hating the silence. “....it's....um.....it's been there since last night...” he commented, his hands flexing into his shirt tightly. “And...I know WHAT it is, I just......it's.....it's new to me, and...” He felt his eye sockets prickle with tears of frustration, confusion, and tiredness, not used to any three of the emotions hitting him all at once. “....and I don't.....I don't know what to DO, Father, I—“

Gaster reached out and pulled Papyrus to him tightly, petting over his youngest's skull with as much comfort as he could, ignoring his own internal screaming at this revelation and what it entailed. “Shh, it's alright, Papyrus,” he said, his voice shaking softly but his tone firm with conviction to not let his boy panic. “It's alright. Calm down. Just calm down.” He quietly rearranged Papyrus so he was cradling the younger Skeleton in his lap, shushing him all the while.

He held Papyrus until the younger was no longer shaking, and he looked down to see that Papyrus had apparently worried himself to sleep. He dug around in his pocket and dialed Sans.

_“Y'ello, G, what's up?”_

“You need to come home now, Sans.”

_“Jeeze, really? It's not even four yet, why would—“_

“Sans. You need to come home. NOW.”

The urgency in Gaster's voice gave Sans pause on the other line.

_“...I'll be there in five.”_

_* * *_

Sans was there in four after a shortcut home, looking around urgently before seeing Papyrus and Gaster on the couch, the youngest tightly curled up and clinging to Gaster, who was emitting an aura of protectiveness that was almost palpable. Sans hurried over, already going over at least fifty scenarios, none of which were comforting.

“What's wrong?” he cried, fretting over his little brother. “What happened? Is he sick? Oh gods, he hasn't fallen down has he—“

“Sans.” Gaster reached out and held Sans's shoulder tightly to calm him down. “Sans. Papyrus......he's fine. But there's something you should know.” He pulled his hand away before tugging up Papyrus's shirt, revealing the ectoplasmic abdomen and the small soul nestled within.

Sans stared at the soul, his eyelights snuffing into nothingness before he pitched backward onto the floor.

Gaster had his hands full dealing with his creations in various stages of distress, but as he tucked them both into his bed and ran magic-infused hands over their skulls to sooth their stress, he could only think about how as long as they were alive and healthy, he couldn't care less.

 


	10. Ten Months

**Twelve Days of Fontfest**

 

_**Ten Months** _

 

It took several days for things to get to some semblance of normal, to make sense of things. He and Sans took turns guarding Papyrus, despite the youngest's protests on the matter, but they knew that if one or the other wasn't at least within shouting distance, Papyrus would go into a state of panic, and NOBODY wanted that.

Gaster had been the last of his kind of longer than he was even comfortable remembering, long enough to know how Skeleton pregnancies worked. Any Skeleton of any gender could breed, though their pregnancies were delicate and prone to failure in the early stages. With only ectoplasm to protect the young, any force or trauma could disrupt it and cause it to fail.

It was why Skeletons died out in the first place Underground. The bulk of them had been slain in the War, while those that remained suffered through the rebuilding of their lives in the beginning, the trauma thinning the breed with each passing generation. It didn't help that some Skeletons had chosen other species as their mates, and the closest breed relative left other than Gaster, Papyrus, and Sans was Grillby, whose grandfather had been one of the last generations of Skeletons.

Gaster had been the only doctor specializing in Skeleton medicine, a profession he put on himself out of duty more than anything, when his specialization had been physics. The stress of being responsible for not making the species die out had caused many a carrying Skeleton to miscarry, and he had seen too many Skeletons fall down from despair. The last Skeleton besides himself had almost been a mother, but she was a frail thing from the beginning, and losing her mate had caused her condition to worsen until she miscarried. He watched her fall down and dust within hours, and nearly did the same himself when he realized that he was the last.

He had all but buried those memories back into his subconscious ever since Sans came out of incubation alive and perfect, but it was all coming back to him, crashing in at full force every time he looked at his youngest. He couldn't lose this one. The blessed bone gods had gifted him with a miracle and he just COULDN'T lose it.

Gaster worked tirelessly to ensure that everything Papyrus needed, Papyrus had. He carefully checked magic stats after every meal, after every nap, and during every normal thing Papyrus even did. It was only when he toyed with the idea of putting a magic-reading reception chip on Papyrus's soul that Sans put his foot down on the matter.

“Wingdings, you PROMISED you wouldn't ever make us feel like lab experiments,” he said firmly, his left eyelight glimmering dangerously dark blue with a flicker of yellow, his usual cyan of Patience gone. “And your constant record-keeping of his magic is more than a little stressful, which we BOTH agreed is the LAST thing he needs.” He took a deep breath and let it out, the almost predatory protective aura simmering down slightly.

“...I know you wanna help,” he continued softly. “I KNOW you do. But...you also gotta trust Papyrus's instincts on these things. You an' I both know how intuitive he is with his own magic. If somethin's wrong, he'll tell us.” He reached out and took Gaster's hand, squeezing it tightly. “I'm scared too, 'Dings. Papyrus bein' fertile all along....it's exciting an' scary, but it's also somethin' we've gotta take with a grain of salt, yeah?” His shoulders slumped tiredly. “...I don't wanna lose my sire, my brother, OR my kid...”

Gaster knelt down, hugging Sans tightly. “It's alright, Sans,” he said quietly. “You're right, I'm overreacting...we BOTH are. But I'll rein it back, okay? Just...let me keep an eye on him, even from a distance. I HAVE to.”

Sans nodded into Gaster's shoulder. “...okay,” he replied.

* * *

 

Papyrus seemed to genuinely appreciate the breathing space his brother and father gave him, as well as finally having the freedom to do his own thing from time to time.

After the initial conception, a good chunk of his energy returned, and he began tidying up and cooking for himself again. It was difficult to watch the older Skeletons fretting themselves over him, and he wanted to take care of them in return after all their hard work between keeping him comfortable and going to the labs.

He hated how exhausted Sans always looked, or how jittery Father's hands got from nerves, although he could empathize. It hadn't escaped him of what a monumental thing his pregnancy was. He had no illusions of what transpired amounting to nothing short of a miracle, his origins considering, and he was under a bit of pressure himself in carrying this to fruition.

Papyrus had overheard his father lamenting to Sans about all the failed pregnancies, of all the fallen mothers he had seen in his early days as a physician, and could hear the desperation in the elder Skeleton's voice of how he COULDN'T let this happen again, least of all to Papyrus.

Still, it would seem that nothing short of Papyrus delivering this baby completely healthy would settle his father down, no matter what Papyrus did to ease Gaster's mind. In all honesty, Papyrus didn't feel any ill health or distress from his own magic, or from the small soul inside of him. The only negative output he ever felt was when he ate something the soul didn't agree with, and resigned himself to a diet of sugar and dairy almost every meal until the baby was ready to come out.

He didn't even know how long this was going to take. It seemed like such a slow process, but progress WAS visible. Little by little, the transparency of his ectoplasmic abdomen grew more opaque, and by the third month, the little soul was encased in an egg-like secondary ectoplasmic covering for added protection. By the fourth month, the light from the soul was no longer visible, and only the connection Papyrus felt with it inside him let him know it was still there.

Well, that, and his ever-growing abdomen.

It was foolish to even consider the notion of hiding this from anyone, and after a long convincing talk to Father and Sans, Papyrus had Undyne come over so he could share the news with SOMEONE.

It was awkward, having the elder Skeletons watching like hawks from the second-floor landing, but they needn't have worried. Undyne was the most gentle and careful Papyrus had ever seen her, as well as the most emotional. She wept with happiness at Papyrus's growing family, made him PROMISE to make her godmother, and asked him to lift his shirt so she could see at least ten times.

It wasn't until after she left for the night that Papyrus realized that she had been looking at him with almost longing the entire time, and wondered if she was contemplating motherhood. It would certainly be interesting, he had thought to himself. She would make a wonderful mother. Perhaps being a godmother would help prepare her!

Little by little—and almost always one by one—everyone else in their social circle were given privy to his condition, and soon gifts began to arrive for him and the future baby. The one he liked most was the soft blanket that Toriel had knitted, and he decided to amuse himself by picking up the craft to experiment with. After a few one-on-one lessons with the former matriarch, he found his new hobby and was almost always surrounded by various balls of yarn as he experimented with patterns until he had enough made to fill a closet.

Still, despite the support and gifts he received, he began to feel almost like a prisoner in his home as the months wore on. If it wasn't Sans on his tailbone following him on the way out to get the mail, it was Father keeping close physical contact when he simply NEEDED to take a walk in the park to stretch his legs and give his magic a pep.

It wasn't necessarily being shadowed by the older Skeletons, so much as feeling almost alone when he was with them. Ever since he had revealed his pregnancy, neither of them would initiate anything more intimate than a cuddle, even if he desperately desired for more. Sans treated him like glass and Father couldn't bear to use magic for anything other than the baby's gestation for fear of losing it.

For the most part, Papyrus spent the time getting to 'know' his baby, taking part in some online expectant mother forums and getting some bonding tips from some humans, one of which was simply talking to it. He did that a LOT. Talking about his day, his hopes, possible names, reading every book he could find to it, ANYTHING. He figured the baby liked it, feeling a positive little quiver with each new story.

Although sometimes, he would just lie on his bed for a nap, curling around his ectoplasmic abdomen and quietly let the little soul in on his doubts, his hang-ups, and wishes for his relationships to go back to normal, to not be treated like a fragile flower. He would apologize for unloading all of that on the little soul, but he only received comfort in return.

The months wore on.

And Papyrus began to slip into lethargy.

The day he decided to not get out of bed was the day Gaster called out and canceled work, barricaded the house, and even put a sign out front on the lawn that promised nothing good for anyone who knocked or rang the door. Gaster's promise to not be overbearing and observing was thrown out the window as he prepared EVERYTHING he would need for what would come in what could be hours, or even days.

Sans took this behavior with a grain of salt, feeling a wildly defensive knot in his soul every time he looked at his little brother and saw weary eyelights, paled bones, and an odd pulsing of magic.

And at six in the evening on the fourth day since being bedridden, Papyrus went into labor.

 


	11. Eleven Hours

**Twelve Days of Fontfest**

 

_**Eleven Hours** _

 

It began with lethargy that would not go away no matter what he did, edged into not being able to eat anything all day, and then around six in the evening, he began to feel incredibly uncomfortable, but didn't want to make anymore of a fuss for his brother or father.

The uncomfortable cramping of ectoplasm in his pelvis put THAT argument out the window, and in a panic of feeling pain for the first time since conception, he called out to his Father.

Gaster was in the room in less than two seconds, looking him over carefully before announcing that it was time and the house was on lockdown.

Papyrus had no idea how long this would take; he was told that it was going to take some time for the connection between his soul and the baby's to peel off from one another, and then Papyrus would need to push the ectoplasmic egg containing the baby out of his body.

In his curiosity, Papyrus had looked up labor videos and was only recently able to get through ONE without shutting it off in a panic. And it looked PAINFUL. Father told him that delivery was much like any other Monster's, or even human's birth, since the ectoplasmic abdomen would only melt away after its job was done and only an emergency would constitute cutting him open to pull it out.

So natural birth it was. Apparently wide hips were a good thing and Papyrus was never happier to have them.

Right now, though, his hips were the last things on his mind as every inch of ectoplasm felt like one big giant cramp and his soul twinged with pain every few minutes to the point where he just wanted to cry from frustration. Nothing Father or Sans did was of any help and all he could do was bury his face in his pillow and have intervals of crying and heavy breathing.

After six hours of nothing except the same thing only getting progressively worse, Sans broke the lockdown and shortcutted out to bring Toriel in, convincing a nearly-livid Gaster that she actually gave birth, was old enough to remember Skeletons before the War, and would actually know what to do to make it better.

Gaster watched with a near-rabid eyelight as Toriel calmly assessed Papyrus's condition and had him alternate between slowly walking around the bedroom to sitting up inclined on the bed. She guided him through the pain of having his soul detach from the baby's little by little until ten hours in, Papyrus almost collapsed back with a sharp wail of pain.

It took everything Sans had to keep Gaster calm enough to assess the pain as being the souls detaching from one another, only for the pain of having to pass the ectoplasmic 'egg' out of Papyrus's body to set in.

Papyrus cried and begged for rest, only Toriel being the calming aural provider keeping him from any real distress. She aided him in promises that this part would pass quickly, but only if he was strong enough to help it along. After so many hours of pain and sleeplessness, it took everything Papyrus had left to aid the 'egg' out of him with Sans supporting him up from behind and Father holding his hand.

At last, at five-fifteen in the morning, after hours of pain, comforting words from his father and brother, and Toriel's expertise, Papyrus finally collapsed back against Sans as the 'egg' was at last pushed out and cradled in Toriel's hands.

Gaster quickly moved from Papyrus's side to gently take the egg from Toriel, looking between it and his youngest in desperation for nothing to have gone wrong, for nothing bad to happen, not now, not with THIS.

But Papyrus rested against Sans, catching his breath and finally reeling himself back in as the pain was passing, and the 'egg' in Gaster's hands was already beginning to melt away, the soul inside pulsing healthy and strong.

And Gaster collapsed on the floor against the bed, sobbing quietly with joy.

The baby was alive and healthy.

Papyrus was alive and healthy.

Nothing bad happened.

And despite Papyrus being the one to give birth, Gaster was the one to pass out.

* * *

 

“He should be alright,” Toriel said, smiling in equal parts amusement and understanding at the sleeping scientist tucked in next to Papyrus, the tiny Skeleton baby nestled between them after being cleaned off from his ectoplasmic 'egg'. “I think he almost worried himself into falling down with this.”

Sans was exhausted but unable to even CONTEMPLATE sleeping after all this, giving the other three Skeletons a weary grin. “...I'm just glad he didn't,” he replied. “...Tori...I can't thank you enough for this...we wouldn't have been able to do it this smoothly without you.”

Toriel beamed, kissing the top of his skull. “It was my pleasure,” she replied. “It's been so very long since I've seen multiple Skeletons all at once, let alone a birthing of one. You were all very strong and brave for this.” She gave a wistful sigh. “I can only hope the next one will be less stressful to go through, now that you know it'll be fine.”

Sans couldn't even find it in him to blush bashfully as he continued to drink in the sight of his family, finally able to have even the smallest twinge of hope for an expansion on it.

“Yeah...the next one.”

 


	12. Twelve Years Later

**Twelve Days of Fontfest**

 

_**Twelve Years Later** _

 

“Bye, Dad! Bye, Pops! Bye, Father!”

A young Skeleton waved to the three elder Skeletons as he ran off to join his friends on his first day to middle school before Father could once more inquire if he had EVERYTHING for school. He needn't have worried, since the eldest Skeleton was currently preoccupied with a five-year-old whining about how SHE wanted to go to school too.

“But I wannaaaaaa!” the little one cried, tugging on the end of Gaster's coat. “Roman gets to go, why can't I? I'm smarter than him anyway!”

Sans snorted as Papyrus huffed and scooped her up. “Now Harlow, no need to insult your brother just because you're upset,” he scolded. “We all know you're smart, but you already drove your teacher to tears after a week last year. We're going to home-school you for now.”

“And besides,” Sans cut in, “you'll have Flare coming by later to play with. You like Flare, don't you?”

Harlow huffed, leaning against her Dad. “His dad is weird,” she replied. “All he does is sit and stare while you guys talk.”

“You just gotta know how to speak Grillby's language, kiddo,” Sans replied, petting her skull. “It's easy enough when you're older.”

“To be honest, Sans, _I_ can barely understand him half the time,” Papyrus put in as they all headed inside. “It just sounds like someone mumbling through a bonfire.”

“THAT'S what I'm saying!” Harlow exclaimed. “At least I can understand Flare!”

“You'll understand plenty with your language studies,” Gaster put in, adjusting the sling over his front to check on the baby bones inside. “And I think Web is close to waking up.” He gave the other three Skeletons a light kiss on the skull before heading into the kitchen to make up some food, his thoughts tracing to the past twelve years.

He had been, admittedly, overprotective to a fault with Roman during the young one's early childhood with Sans and Papyrus always having to run a buffer when things became too intense or suffocating. It wasn't until the past year that he and Roman could finally breathe around each other, and that was AFTER Harlow and Webdings were born.

Gaster could admit that his fears often overshadowed his compassion when it came to Roman until recent years, wishing he had been more attentive to the boy's emotional development as well as physical. Roman was tall for his age, athletic, and enthusiastic like Papyrus, but he was also contemplative and prone to seriousness on some matters like Gaster. Gaster only wished it was sooner that Roman came to him with beaming fuchsia eyelights when he was excited about something, rather than spending the first few years going to Papyrus or Sans for the unbridled encouragement for any silly thing he found interesting.

But things settled down, and the two slightly-estranged souls warmed up to one another, especially after Papyrus became pregnant with Harlow. THAT had been a surprise in and of itself, especially considering it was SANS who had fathered her. Come to find, Sans was barren for carrying children, but fertile for fathering them, and what a shocker THAT had been.

Roman had been almost seven and excited for a new brother or sister, and Sans and Papyrus both breathed a sigh of relief when Gaster didn't completely flip out in an overprotective streak like last time. THIS time, Papyrus knew what to expect, and was more than happy going about his normal business, albeit with more care and with an extra pair of hands to help when needed.

Birthing Harlow had been much quicker than the last time, which suited her personality of being an early bloomer for EVERYTHING then on. It only took six hours from beginning to end for her to 'cut the cord' and come out, her blue eyelights already critical of the world she had been born into, amazing and dazzling everyone there who saw her.

After her birth, however, all three sat down and had a long, serious talk.

It was obvious now that Papyrus became incredibly fertile during his rare and sparse heats, and that it would be best to find alternative methods of helping with them to avoid turning him into a breeding mare. Sans had only MENTIONED the term and Gaster was horrified at the implications that it could be something someone thought. The survival of the Skeleton species was not worth turning Papyrus into a breeder, no matter what.

Things had fundamentally changed since Roman came into their lives; in this way, the three of them began referring to one another as spouses, rather than sire and offspring. It certainly aided in the more conservative-minded Monsters and humans who would likely be uncomfortable with the idea of Gaster being the father of Roman and Harlow's father. It worked out in the end, and Gaster found he quite liked sharing the title of 'husband' with the other two.

…..it still didn't stop Papyrus from calling him 'Daddy' behind closed doors and out of hearing range from the children.

Their arrangement was working and Harlow WOULD have stayed the youngest if Sans hadn't suggested Papyrus and Gaster do 'reverse roleplaying' for his own amusement.

Years down the line, Sans would break out the photo album and point a pregnant Gaster out to an older Webdings and say _'this was what happened when Papyrus was Daddy for the night'._ Sans swore up and down he would do it at Webdings's wedding, and Papyrus and Gaster swore vengeance if he really did.

THAT was still years away, and Gaster sincerely hoped Sans would have forgotten it by then.

For NOW, the little baby bones was squirming in his sling and yawning awake, peering up at Gaster with golden eyelights and no doubt hungry. Gaster quietly made up some formula and listened to Sans and Papyrus arguing over whether or not Grillby spoke Firespeak on purpose as he fed the baby, smiling to himself.

It had taken so long to realize his dream of having a large family with Sans, and so many unprecedented factors had come into play to make it so. He no longer cared about preserving the Skeleon breed, only wanting his children to be happy with whomever they chose to be happy with. He was absolutely content with everything.

Now if only he could convince Sans to wait a few more years before seeing if they could 'make one more to complete the set'.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also: Dad=Papyrus, Pops=Sans, Father=Gaster
> 
> To summarize the kids:
> 
> T. N. Roman: Male. Gaster and Papyrus's kid. Fuchsia eyelights. Enthusiastic and athletic.
> 
> Harlow: Female. Sans and Papyrus's kid. Blue eyelights. Child prodigy, but still a child.
> 
> Webdings: Male. Papyrus and Gaster's kid. Gold eyelights. Still a baby, but full of potential.
> 
> Flare: Male. Grillby's kid. Pretty sure he was spawned without a mother. The only one able to put up with Harlow.


End file.
